My Everything
by Fire.Bird.Fly
Summary: Hinata became a therapist mainly to heal her heart. Gaara is a vicious boy hiding a painful past. They are opposites, though on the inside, the same. Will one heal another, though both cannot heal themselves?
1. The Slightest of Understandings

**A/N: Hi! Read and review, 'kay?**

**Chapter 1.**

Hyuga Hinata became a therapist for 3 reasons.

One was the fact that she liked to help others.

Second was the fact that she herself needed someone to talk to when she was young, but didn't have anyone, and therefore, she wanted to make sure no one else went through what she did.

And third was the fact that she needed something to fill the gap in her heart.

Because whether or not she showed it, whether or not she still dreamt of it, she knew for sure she would never be the same. He had breezed in, as pathetic as she was, and she loved him, loved him still, loved him though she knew he wouldn't love her, though she knew she would be left behind. And she was right. She was left behind, still crawling on that dusty path, stained with the footprints of friends long gone. She groped in blindness, in pitch black, still hoping to see the light, though she knew it was futile.

Because of him. She didn't blame, of course, oh no. But still… He had come in, and slowly, slowly carved a hole in her heart, chipping a bit more of her away every time he had talked to his crush, every time he accidentally ignored her, or forgot her name. And that hole, though years had passed, was still there, fresh as if it had only appeared yesterday. Her heart still thudded, her cheeks flushed at the faintest mention of his name.

She was caught in the past, in memories already gone, trapped in the threads of time, spun so thick she could hardly breathe. She couldn't move on, because how could she find her way in the utter black of the universe, spinning, spinning, moving, while she was entrapped within the clock itself, frozen at her childhood?

She didn't enjoy her job really. Not that much. It reminded her more of her past. Wicked, sneering faces peering at the Hyuga heiress from the shadows.

Darling Hinata.

Sweet Hinata.

Oh, what a lovely child.

Always ready to help.

Can you do this?

This?

Oh, this too, please?

But she knew better now. She could see past the masks of ice, zeroed in on the face within. Cruel, greedy, using her because sweet, darling Hinata wouldn't refuse, because no one else would do things like she would, so obediently, no question.

She knew now, the world was rotten, filled with scum and filth, staining the young hearts of children with their black, sooty, hands, squeezing the life out, till they were nothing but shells.

She should know. She was one of them.

Ah, but she already knew something which made her last purpose useless.

You see, once a jewel is broken, you can never heal it. Once again, again, it'll fall.

-o-o-o-

My day began as usual. The normal heartache when I woke, the normal immediate waking due to years of practice, having had to make breakfast each day, the usual sadness flushing throughout my body. You see, it was my first. I was shy. I was quiet. But I did it. With my miniscule courage, I confessed, only to be turned down harsh, really harshly.

I clicked my pen onto my desk, again and again, the dark wood beneath steady. I swivelled around in my chair, a full 180, to stare out the long panels of window, overlooking the city, the faint outlines of the mountains just visible against the bright morning sun, the city just coming to life, with a couple of noises now and then, here and there. The city wasn't big, nor grey. It was the opposite; small and colourful. Walking along, you could be in India then sailing across seas, floating in outer space then in a garden of flowers. First dusk, then dawn, sunrise, then nightfall. It was magic.

I swivelled back around leaning onto my desk and watching the dark door opposite, across the two couches that stood sandwiched in the middle, facing each other, dark red and plump. I didn't have a clock. I didn't like clocks. I could tell, about. Dinner, lunch, morning, the shade of rosy pink and hazy yellow which says 'wake up', or I asked others if the therapy session was up yet.

My life, so far, was fine, as far as I was concerned.

"Tick, tock, goes, the clock…" I muttered under my breath to myself.

I rolled my eyes, blinked, then clicked my pen again.

In a way, it was lucky he had come into my life. I didn't stutter anymore. I didn't move and flail my limbs, nor pressed my fingers together when talking. I could insult people, because I knew it was the truth, knew they were rotten like everyone else.

Finally, unable to wait any longer, I stood and stretched, then proceeded to fluff and worry over my clipboard and information sheet. I scanned it once more.

"Sabaku no Gaara." I read aloud to myself.

"Age- 22. Hm, a bit older than me. Height… Weight… Normal, I suppose… Uh… 'Tends to scare people and resorts to violence a lot. Didn't bully, however. Appears to help bully victims but scares both.' Hm, interesting…"

"I don't think so."

I jumped. An average, slightly skinny man stood opposite me, fitted with a brooding look and natural frown, dark red hair and sea-green, aqua eyes, bright one moment, stormy the next.

"Ah… Sabaku-san, is it? Nice to meet you. I am Hyuga Hinata, your therapist."

"I don't need you. My brother and sister forced me to." He growled, eyes flashing.

I stayed calm. "Well, you're here now, so why not get going?"

He narrowed his eyes. "I hate people like you."

I blinked, my eyes widening in shock. That was new. Not many had guts to say that.

"Really?" _I hate you too then, Sabaku-san._ "Well, I don't hate you." _No, don't listen. I really hate you._

He smirked. "Liar."

I ground my teeth. Unfortunately, it was harder to keep my cool since I was rejected.

"Listen, Sabaku-san." I hissed. "You'll-" I coughed, then changed my tone to sickly sweet, draped in honey. "You need to pay respect, because we're strangers, see?" I laughed, a high-pitched, nasally laugh, unlike my real one.

"Quit the act. You were going to strangle me. Why don't you stop pretending? It's no fun this way."

I bit my tongue till it numbed.

"Listen, Sabaku-san." I growled, ditching the friends act. "I'm not here to play, and neither. You're paying money now, so why don't you make it worthwhile? And god, some people actually need this, so don't make fun of it."

His lips curved up into a vicious grin.

"So... Why not just let me go now? I can trash your office, you know."

I raised my brow. "What do you want me to say? Tell you to be a good boy. Do what you want. That won't change the fact that I will still talk to you."

His eyes darkened, his face cast into shadow.

"Well… Maybe I'll stay if you can guess? Why do I save little victims from the bid, bad wolf?"

"Because," I started with a snap, "You aren't actually all that mean, are you?"

He flushed pink, surprised. "Of course not! Don't joke around!"

"And," I continued unmercifully, "You actually don't want to see people hurt, because you were hurt once too, weren't you, Subaku-san?"

His face reddened. "Don't make me out to be a sissy, Hyuga-san." He said threateningly.

"Well? You have to stay."

He glance at his wrist, then smirked.

"Sorry, Hyuga- san. Time's up."

He took a few steps back towards the door, then pulled it open.

"And also… I wasn't the only one hurt once, was I? Maybe, instead on me needing you, YOU need yourself more."

Then he was gone.

I scowled.

"Damn, he's good."

I sighed, rubbed my temples, and walked out of the office, planning to grab a donut and coffee.

"Hyuga-san? Why did your client leave so early?"

I glanced over at my secretary.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's 45 minutes early, isn't it?"

I swore.


	2. His Sorrow

**A/N- Woot! I'm on a roll!~**

**Chapter 2**

"Hello, Hyuga-san."

"Hello, Sabaku-san."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Oh, all right, then," I snapped, "Do you have anything to say?"

"Nope." He said innocently, popping the P.

I growled at his nerve. The brat had the guts to pretend he did nothing, eh? We would see about that.

"Well, I freaking do."

"Well, I don't."

"I don't give a damn whether you do or not."

"Hey, you're a girl. Sure you should be talking like that?"

I seethed. This dude ticked me off.

"Well then, go and sit your ungrateful little butt in that corner and REMEMBER."

He cocked an arrogant eyebrow in my direction.

"Make me."

"You little-"

Suddenly, a timid knock sounded out, penetrating the air. I coughed, smoothed my long, flowing skirt and long sleeved shirt then fixed a plastic smile to my face.

"Come in," I called cheerily, my voice ringing fake in the atmosphere.

Gaara raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, Hyuga-san, gomenasai for my intrusion… Your, uh… A letter arrived. From your cousin…" My secretary held out an envelope.

I smiled. My cousin was wrong at first too, and I knew why. We were alike, same blood, same eyes and hair, same pain and happiness… Same past. Filled with hurt and loneliness as things we held dear were snatched away before our eyes, as our love faded away, sliding through our powerless hands.

I reached out.

"Thank you." I smiled warmly, genuinely. I hadn't heard from my cousin and his to-be-married-bride in a while. They had been busy, of course, as had I.

"… And, um… Ano…. There's another…"

"Oh. Who from?" I frowned. I had not many friends left who had maintained contact with me. Who was it?

"Ano… It's your father."

I hitched in a breath. She winced, knowing she'd hit a nerve, and close to flung the letters at me and raced out the door, muttering about needing the toilet all the while.

I stood, shell-shocked, gaping.

My _father? _Hyuga Hiashi? The proud ruler of the Hyuga clan? Impossible. I snarled to myself, then tossed the letters onto my desk, clenching my fist into a tight ball.

"… Your father, eh? Guess you have bad relations with him."

I didn't move, merely shifting my narrowed eyes.

"What's it to you?" I hissed at him, daring him to answer. I should have known he would anyway.

"What's it to me?" He scoffed. "Nothing at all."

I raised my brow in surprise, turning my head around to stare at him.

He looked back defiantly.

"Want me to pat your head? Say, 'Oh, you poor thing!'?" He sneered. "Dream on. You're grown-up now. Act like it. You have things others dream of having. Stop acting the child. Are you having fun throwing a pity-party for yourself?"

I gaped, opening and closing my mouth like a fish.

"I… I-I'm not!" I spluttered indignantly.

He snorted. "Don't kid yourself. I bet you've been beating yourself up over this for years. Just let it go. Others have had it worse." He said viciously.

"Oh really?" _Have it your way. Two can play at this game. _"Who?"

He paused.

"Me."

I gave a start, but made a quick recovery.

"Oh yeah?" I attempted a sneer. "What happened to you? Did your mommy and daddy leave you all alone for a year? That it?"

I was being mean. I knew it. And I knew already, that his story would be worse than mine.

"No. I accidentally killed my mom when I was handling a knife and my dad's in prison for abuse."

I sucked in a breath. It was worse than I thought.

"Listen… I'm-"

"I don't need your pity, okay?" He snapped at me. "Go waste it on someone who wants it."

I knew I was being insulted on purpose, so I kept quiet.

"Don't think you can fool me." I said quietly. "I know."

"You know nothing." He said harshly, spitting the words at me like daggers, piercing me. My heart. It hurt. Shattering.

I scuffed the carpet with my shoe.

"I'm sor-" I began again, but he scowled once more, and I stopped abruptly.

"Just… I'm leaving, okay?"

And he turned, stalking out the door into the sunny afternoon with chirping birds and sleepy cafes beginning to open up.

I heard the bang of the front door, and I reddened. It was my fault. I knew that.

How much must I have hurt him?

Complaining about my father. _His father abused him._

Complaining about my family. _He has barely anyone left._

Thinking he had a perfect life. _He was torn in two._

I sank to the floor, head in my hands. I breathed in sharply as my eyes heated up. I bit my lip angrily, pushing them down. _It was my fault. _And then I completely broke down, watching silently as tears slid gently down my cheeks on the soft carpet below.

I brushed a hand through my hair, drawing in more shaky breathes, attempting to maintain myself.

But I could still taste the footsteps and dust left behind by him. His scent. Woody, sandy, pine. I could still smell it, though it was fading so quickly.

I could see it, taste it. I always knew it was there. Why didn't I do anything earlier?

His sorrow.


	3. Alcea Rosea

**A/N: Yipee! I am bursting with inspiration!  
>Chapter 3.<strong>

The night sky was a dull, dark blue, lit up only by a faint wisp of light floating in the sky. Hinata lay on her soft bed, staring up at the ceiling littered with stars shining green. She sighed and ran her hand through her soft indigo hair. She curled into a tight ball and squeezed her eyes tight shut.

"_Stop acting the child. Are you having fun throwing a pity-party for yourself?"_

I rolled over and groaned to myself.

"_You know nothing."_

I hissed as I bit my tongue, triggering a little bead of blood to swell.

His voice kept echoing in my head, over and over.

"_I don't need your pity, okay?"_

"_I don't need your pity, okay?"_

"Shut up." I growled, holding my pillow over my ears.

"_I don't need your pity, okay?"_

"SHUT UP." I said louder, my voice sounding out through the silent room.

"_I don't need your pity, okay?"_

"I said shut up!" I clenched my fist, digging my nails into my palm to leave crescent shapes.

"_I don't need your-"_

"SHUT UP!" I screamed, hurling my pillow against the wall.

It thudded and slid, falling with a quiet oomph to the ground. So quiet a sound, so sweet it made me even more guilty.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my chest, as if a dozen needles jabbed the place continuously. I hissed, clutching my heart in vain; the pain throbbed, twisted and churned inside me.

I felt tears well up at the corner of m eyes as I squeezed them tight shut, willing the pain to vanish. I counted to myself, slowly…

_1…_

Ah… So painful…

_2…_

Gah….

_3…_

"Godammit…" I mumbled to myself, gritting my teeth.

_4…_

"N… Nearly…" I panted, beads of sweat growing steadily on my forehead.

_5…._

And as suddenly as it had appeared, it disappeared.

I gasped, my heart wriggling about. I sniffed, as blackness curled it's fingers around me and carried my off into the dark, stony depths.

o-o-o

"Is Hyuga-san here?"

The secretary looked up. There was a bored, rather annoyed looking man standing in front, with dusty red hair and the most beautiful green eyes she had ever seen. She smiled at him, her eyes crinkling into soft little wrinkles at the ends.

"Hyuga-san? Ano…"

She glanced down, and flipped through her papers, wondering if she wrote down a notice or reminder anywhere.

"Ah, no…. She should be here. Is she not in her office?"

Gaara shook his head, and willed himself not to worry. She had been so… obnoxious, after all, he reminded himself. She didn't deserve his sympathy.

"Whatever, then." He turned, fingers pressing against one another inside his pant pockets. "See you."

The secretary simply nodded and waved him a farewell.

He walked to the door, and once outside, stopped suddenly, right outside the entrance.

He cleared his throat.

"Actually, I might go see her." He said aloud.

He coughed, rubbed his chest, then tried again.

"I'm her friend, so do you mind giving me her address?"

"No, that will never do." He growled to himself in an accidental English accent.

Finally, he gave up and stumbled back inside, brisk walking to the desk once more. He stopped unsurely before the amused secretary, looking nervous.

"_Excuse moi, may I know ze address of ze therapist, Hyuga-san? Sil' vous plait, madame, sil' vous plait."_

She raised an eyebrow at his French.

"Uh…"

He leaned forward in anticipation.

"I'd like to say yes, but no. You ARE a guy, are you not?"

"_But madam, this matter is of utmost importance, and my soul will not rest until I have obtained such crucial information."_

"Yes, well, I'm sorry, as nice as your accents are!"

"_But, mi'lady, you ca'n't refuse a lad like me, ma'am, no siree! Please, ma'am, I'm beggin' ya, please! C'mon, now, lady, you really must, 'cause wha' if, like, she's like passed ou' somewhere mighty dangerous, eh? Won' you be sorry then!"_

"Well, Hyuga-san is perfectly capable, so I should think not." The secretary spoke sharply, beginning to get aggravated.

"_But madaama! You-a SEEMPLY must give me that-a address-a!"_

"No!"

"_Yeth, you musth! You thimply, thimply, musth give it to me!"_

The secretary glared at the red-head.

"No means no, Sabaku-san." She spoke sharply, drawing out a bit of the real character of Gaara. He flushed pink.

"Ah…" He turned, striding towards the door. "Gomen…"

The secretary watched him go, feeling the slightest pang.

"Hey… Sabaku-san. If you take a girl with you…" She flipped a card over on her desk, scribbled on it then flicked it at him like a professional.

He caught it in surprise, looking up in awe. The secretary winked.

"You're not the only one with a hidden background." She stuck out her tongue.

"Now go. I think Hyuga-san may be waiting."

"Ah… A… Arigato…." Gaara clenched the card in his fist and held his head high, and walked…

Smack into the door.

**½ and hour later**

Gaara floated through the sky, full of fluffy clouds and sweet-smelling dewdrops hanging here and there. He pranced around, his voice gone. Suddenly, the sky turned black. A vast picture flashed up on the board. It looked familiar. Too familiar.

He gaped.

"_Okaa-san! Okaa-san! Look! It's pretty, ne?" _

"_It sure is, little man." The pretty lady with short brown hair smiled softly. "But when you grow up big and strong, you'll have a big castle to live in, right?"_

_The little boy gazed up in wonder, his ever-changing eyes glimmering._

"_Bigger than this, okaa-san? Really?"_

_His hands were clasped within big, soft ones, with perfectly pink nails and crescent moons. Kindness shone through her eyes."_

"_Really, my little boy, really."_

"_Sugoi, okaa-san!" _

Then the scene changed. Gaara's breath drew short.

They were in the kitchen now, cutting onions.

"_Okaa-san, onions are really hard to cut…"_

_A mini Gaara wiped his brow._

"_But for you, okaa-san, I think I can!"_

_His mother looked down worriedly. _

"_Are you sure, Gaara? A knife is dangerous, after all…" _

"Sabaku-san? Sabaku-san?"

"_Of course! See?" _

_The little boy swung the knife down happily, blissfully unaware of what was to happen._

"Stop! Stop! Put the knife down!" Gaara screamed at the screen, but his voice didn't come out.

_No…_

He lunged forward, running unsteadily. The boy in the picture widened his eyes in fear as he realised his mistake. His mother jumped forward, sending them crashing to the floor, all the while screaming his name.

_Not again…_

He groped at the screen, inches away. A shining glint of silver protruded from her back, an eerie light lighting up the boy's face, stricken with horror, fear… Sadness. He knew already, the inevitable.

_Okaa-san!_

Blood splashed across the carpet, the tiles, spreading like a river.

"No… No…"

"_Okaa-san?"_

"Sabaku-san? Daijobu?"

"_Okaa-san!"_

Once again, the screen flickered, then flashed forward once more to a different time. The boy this time was completely different. Void of emotion, pale, green eyes which would remain frozen in time, everlasting in beauty and sadness. His red hair, instead of glowing a beautiful murky maroon, had faded and dulled to an almost brown colour.

"_It's amazing…"_

_The boy looked up. He was not crying. In fact, he was nowhere near crying. _

"…_How death can change someone." _

_Little drops of rain pattered the crowd docked in black, and people put up umbrellas, and crying, walked away, soundless. _

_The boy stood alone in the rain, growing harsher and harsher. Alone. But the words swarmed around him. _

_Through the pounding rain, his words cannot be heard, but his pale lips move to form words._

_People whisper in clustered groups, not near him, but their words still reach him. _

"_That boy. He's not even crying."_

"_What a demon…"_

"_Shh! Maybe you'll die next!"_

"_Don't say that, Kiriko!"_

"_Heh… His name means 'I only love myself. I am a demon.'"_

"_True…"_

_However, the boy appears to be impassive._

_His lips move once more, and his eyes squeeze shut for just a moment, and all the sadness in the world is there when those orbs open, but in a second, it vanishes. He bows his head, a bitter smile forming on his lips._

_And with that, he walks away, drenched, and as if sensing his misfortune, people run, duck into buildings, and the street is empty until he passes._

_Once more, his lips move._

Gaara looks on, taking on the expression of the boy.

He looks to the sky, seeing all the pain and sadness once more.

"_Gomen, okaa-san, gomen…"_

"_But look. Even the sky in mourning."_

"_Gomen… really. I am your son. But I am not fit to cry for you."_

"_Don't worry, really! I will smile. People already think bad of me anyway."_

_A bitter laugh._

"_Who would like a demon?"_

The screen flickers and switches off. Gaara grips his fists.

So that was what it was.

"Haven't you mocked me enough?"

He grits his teeth.

"Putting me in a place like this… Pink. Happy. Sweet. Then playing my worst memories."

"But…" He looks up to the sky, his eyes shining.

"Thank you." He puts up a hand over his eyes. "I can cry now, right?"

And then they come. Tears come sliding down over porcelain cheeks, a perfect pristine blue.

Sobs wrack his body, overcoming him, forcing his to inhale big breathes, gulping in the air.

His eyes are brighter. But not the same. They wouldn't be. Not after that. Never again.

_Kodoku na kagakusha ni tsukurareta robotto  
>dekibae o iu nara "kiseki"<em>

He glances up, confusion on his face.

_dakedo mada tarinai hitotsu dake dekinai  
>sore wa "kokoro" to iu puroguramu<em>

But the voice is so familiar, so nostalgic.

_ikuhyaku toshi ga sugi  
>hitori de nokosareta<br>kiseki no robotto wa negau_

The sun shines through a tiny gap in the clouds, a brilliant ray of yellow. It lands right at his feet.

_shiritai ano hito ga  
>inochi no owari made<br>watashi ni tsukutteta  
>"kokoro"<em>

It follows a path, lighting up even the darkish pink corners. Tears burn at Gaara's eyes once more.

_ima ugoki hajimeta kasoku suru kiseki  
>nazeka namida ga tomaranai…<br>naze watashi furueru? kasoku suru kodou  
>kore ga watashi no nozonda "kokoro"?<em>

_fushigi kokoro kokoro fushigi  
>watashi wa shitta yorokobu koto o<br>fushigi kokoro kokoro fushigi  
>watashi wa shitta kanashii koto o<br>fushigi kokoro kokoro fushigi  
>nande fukaku setsunai…?<em>

_ima kidzuki hajimeta umareta riyuu o  
>kitto hitori wa sabishii<br>sou, ano hi, ano toki  
>subete no kioku ni yadoru "kokoro" ga afuredasu<em>

He sucks in a deep breath, then lays his head to one side, closes his eyes, and listens.

_ima ieru hontou no kotoba  
>sasageru anata ni<em>

_arigatou… kono yo ni watashi o unde kurete  
>arigatou… isshoni sugoseta hibi o<br>arigatou… anata ga watashi ni kureta subete  
>arigatou… eien ni utau<em>

"That was a lovely song… Hyuga-san."

He could almost see her face gleaming through the sun.

"Ne, Sabaku-san… Do you know the lyrics?"

He smiles and nods his head.

"Good."

And she's gone.

He looks down, feeling something tickle his feet. Gasps burst from his mouth, as once more, his tears fall. So many build up over years. Years of sorrow. Years of not being able to cry. But he is now. And now, they're gone. Finally.

The ground is a carpet of lush flowers, trimmed with dark green and blinding.

He picks one up and sniffs it.

"_Ne, okaa-san…"_

"_Nani, Gaara?"_

"_What's your favourite flower?"_

"_Eh?" The woman taps her chin. "I think… A hollyhock."_

"_What's that? What does it look like?"_

"_A flower, dear!" She laughs. "Burnt red, a beautiful colour." She fingers his hair. "Found in Mission San Juan Capistrano. Hollyhock. Alcea Rosea!"_

_The boy gapes._

"_Okaa-san, you're so smart! I love you!"_

"_Oh, Gaara, I love you too." She strokes his face. "So never cry. Always, always smile."_

Gaara rubs the flower's petals between his fingers and chants to himself.

"_But that's hard to remember, isn't it?" _

"_Hmm… I'll teach you a rhyme I made up, okay? So you always remember!"_

"Once, I touched your hair."

"Twice, I looked into your eyes."

"Once, I remembered the colour."

"Burnt red, Alcea."

"Twice, I saw the green. Rosea."

"A hollyhock, Mission San Juan Capistrano!"

"Three times, I love you."

"Always, always, always."

"The flower of our love."

His voice trails off, as he repeats the last two lines over and over to himself.

"Always. I love you."

"Sabaku-san!"

Gaara jolts to a stop and opens his eyes, surprise swimming in his eyes.

"Ah, you're awake!" The secretary sits back.

"You see, you smashed into the glass, and then you…"

But Gaara wasn't listening. He didn't care. He sniffed his hand. The scent was still there. He clenched it and smiled, pressing his fist against his mouth. He seemed to be doing a lot of smiling. Seemed rather unhealthy.

Plastering a frown to his face, he looked at the secretary.

"Arigato," He said, frowning.

"… What's your problem? Anyway, Hyuga-san is here to see you."

The frown slid off his face. Ah, whatever. His frown could burn in hell.

"Hello, Sabaku-san."

The secretary sidled out.

"Hi."

Hinata raised an eyebrow.

"You seem happy."

"Yes." Gaara nodded his head vigorously.

Her eyes softened.

"That's good." She said softly.

"Oh yes," He suddenly said, "What happened to you?"

She stopped. "Uh… Maybe another time."

He frowned. At will, this time.

"Well… Alright."

"…"

"Promise?"

"Yes." She hooked her finger onto his. "Promise."

"… Swear in your heart and hope to die?"

"You completely RUINED the moment, you brat."

"I don't want a moment with you."

"Whatever. I don't care."

But while the bickering continued, they were both, unknowingly, grinning like maniacs.

On the way back to Hinata's house, however, they both hummed the exact same song.

"Eh?" Hinata glanced at him. "Where did you hear that?"

He fidgeted.

"Er… Someone… Sang it to me. In a dream."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes."

She smiled.

"It must have been fate."

"Yeah… Maybe." He reddened.

"Oh. Who was it?"

"N-No one!"

"Eh? Tell me!"

"It was no one!"

"Tell!"

"Go away! My head still hurts!"

"Grr. I'm a psychiatrist! TELL."

"DREAM ON. GO TO HELL."

"My head hurts too!"

"Suck it up!"

"YOU suck it up!"

"Argh, I take back what I said earlier! I'm already at Hell! Whatever Satan does to me with seem like nothing at all!"

"Hey!"

_A robot was built by a lonely scientist,  
>When his work was done, it was known as a "miracle"<em>

_But something was missing, there was one thing he couldn't do,  
>and that was the program called a "heart"<em>

_Many years passed,  
>and the miracle robot that had been left all alone,<br>made a single wish:_

_Give me the "heart", that that person,  
>The person I've always wanted to know,<br>made for me, until the very end of his life._

_Now that that miracle has started to occur,  
>Why, why won't my tears stop flowing….?<br>Why am I shaking? What are these beats inside me?  
>Is this the "heart" that I wished for?<em>

_Mysterious heart, mysterious feelings,  
>All the joys I had come to know,<br>Mysterious heart, mysterious feelings,  
>All the depressing things I had come to know,<br>Mysterious heart, mysterious feelings,  
>They all seem so deeply painful…<em>

_Now I'm beginning to understand the reason I was born,  
>Being alone must truly be depressing,<br>Yes, on that day, at that time,  
>All the feelings that had dwelled in my memories flowed out of my heart.<em>

_But now, I can say these words for real,  
>to you, my creator, who dedicated his life to me,<em>

_Thank you… for bringing me into this world.  
>Thank you… for the days you spent with me.<br>Thank you… for everything you've given me  
>Thank you… I will sing for eternity.<em>


End file.
